


Bucket List

by withering_snowflowers



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Mostly Fluff, i hope you get it??, though there's a deep meaning?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 08:10:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15287400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withering_snowflowers/pseuds/withering_snowflowers
Summary: One day, Fred, George and you decide to do the things on a Bucket list that you had found. But you didn’t know that this actually would influence your life.





	Bucket List

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2017.

“Georgie, hand me the ‘Herbs: A guide’-book please,” you asked him and he subconsciously reached over the book stack next to him. Fred was scrunching his nose as he brooded over another question that he had to answer. The older twin had already written a paragraph and you could see his messy, scrawly writing plastered over the whole parchment. Except that the sentences weren’t straight but kind of crooked. Unlike his younger brother who was chewing on his lips as he struggled with the first question, Fred seemed to have so much progress already.

Fred, George and you were sitting in the library, actually trying to finish up your Herbology homework. It was long after dinner and you had persuaded them to actually sit down and write the essay about the poisonous yet helpful herbs. So here you were, sitting on chairs that lined in front of the shelves with little lights that would illuminate your work space.

“Thanks,” you replied, opening the book on the first page so you could view the register for some quick search. Your finger grazed past the letters that were printed on yellow paper with brown, smudged edges until you found what you had been searching for

Quickly you added the information to your essay, not forgetting to include an explanation for your thesis. George next to you was crossing out something he had written and an almost inaudible sigh left his lips. You could hear the quill scratching over the paper.

“George, keep your eyes on your own homework,” you warned him, witnessing from the corner of your eyes how close he was moving to your side.

“But I am stuck at this question,” George whined and you looked up with a small sigh.

“Which one?”

“Oh, ____ what did you write to wolfsbane?” Fred inched closer from the other side, stealing your parchment when you drew your attention towards George.

“Thanks for the solution,” the older twin chirped, already starting to copy your essay. You rolled your eyes but ignored him. The younger twin was more important at the moment.

“Why is  _he_  allowed to copy it?” But George pouted, golden puppy eyes shimmering in the dim lights of the library.

“Good lord, you guys are such a hassle.” You snatched your essay back from Fred who immediately made a small sound of protest.

“Come closer, we’re doing this together.”

They shared this grin, this triumphant grin that you hated so much. It never meant anything good; never foreshadowed proper things. Sometimes, when you were in a “bad mood” this grin was the catalyst for a soft slap on the back of their heads. But that only caused their grins to widen, wider and wider until it cracked into a big smirk.

“I need the book about the wolfsbane potion,” you demanded and George extended his arm to pull the stack of books closer to your place. You grabbed the first book and placed it in front of you.

“That’s  _not_  a book about Potions, though.” You raised your eyebrows upon seeing the cover of the book that bore the title “Prank ideas”.

“How did this one manage to mingle with these serious, beautiful books about herbs?” George’s voice was dripping with feigned innocence. He was looking at the ceiling while Fred suddenly decided that his finger nails were more interesting than the colorful, hilariously illustrated book cover. Something was fishy.

“I wonder  _how,_ ” you repeated, but your statement underlined with irony. George’s cheeky grin was just a confirmation of your suspicions.

“Anyways let’s finish this thing,” you went back to the topic, namely your homework that still laid unfinished in front of you.

“Don’t you want to take a look, Fred?” The ginger started a weak attempt to distract you from the despicable school assignment.

“Actually, I do, George…how did you know that?” Fred smiled, exactly knowing what his little brother was trying to do.  It was the most pathetic and ridiculous attempt, you were almost disappointed because they had already been much more inventive when it came down to distract you from your studies.

“Come on, you’ve done better,” you chuckled when Fred cheekily stole the book from your hands so he could open it on a random page.

“It still works though,” the older twin added and you nodded, having to agree. He was right, the book had also struck your curiosity; had lit it like a match.

“Just a bit, okay? We really need to finish this,” you reasoned and George nodded like a well-behaved child.

“Let’s see,” George pulled the book by its cover so it was sitting in front of you. That way it was easier for the three of you to look at its content.

“This one, we’ve already done,” George commented, pointing at the prank that involved altering sweets.

“Even though this prank is rather boring.”

“We’ve done better.”

“Definitely.”

You turned the page, discovering another one that the twins had already done without even needing to consult this book.

“This one’s good though. We need to note this,” George mumbled before he pulled out another piece of parchment where he eagerly began to take notes.

You gave a sigh, wishing that the twins would have shown just as much engagement for their studies as well. It was a pity, a waste of their brains at times. The two red heads were so extremely skilled, intelligent – both promising wizards. Yet instead they seemed to waste their abilities and spare time with making up pranks and creating prank gadgets. Despite your unconditional support, you couldn’t help but feel a bit saddened by that.

“Hey, what’s this though?”

There was a small corner of a piece of paper that seemed so out of place, pressed and hidden between the countless pages. You fingers traveled over the sides of the book, fingertips trying to find the exact place. Finally, the correct page was found and a thin piece of parchment was revealed.

“What’s a  _Bucket List_?” George asked as he pointed at the title.

“It’s a list of things that a person wants to do. Basically, it’s a “To do” list. I used to make them as well when I was younger. It’s a Muggle thing, I guess,” you explained in a low voice after someone in the distance had warned you to lower your voices.

Coming from a family where none of your relatives had grown up with magical abilities, you had been raised as a normal Muggle up until the owl that brought your letter from Hogwarts had changed your entire life; had knocked all your views over. It had led you into a different world and sometimes, you still couldn’t believe your eyes when seeing others performing magic – afraid that you could wake up any day to find out that this was all an illusion.

“I have an idea,” Fred slowly breathed, laughter still shaking his shoulders. The three of you had been spending the past minutes with reading through the Bucket List, picturing the actual process and the possible reactions.

“Can’t be good.” You panted, your chest heaving back and down after a giggling fit. You had just stumbled a particularly good one.

“What if we make it our mission to do some of these?”

“Good idea. I mean, how does this idea sound:  _Let’s be reckless and do things that make them expel us in our last year?_ ”

“Fred, are you insane?”

“Yeah. Thought you knew that?” The older Weasley gave you a crooked grin.

“But  _finals_? We didn’t spend 6 years of school just for being excluded from taking the exams!” You looked at George, seeking some support. The younger twin had always been more reasonable than his brother. Fred shared a knowing look with George, something that you had missed noticing.

“Sounds fun though, Count me in.” George simply said which caused you to look at him with dismay on your face.

“Traitor.”

“_______, I don’t remember that you were such a coward,” Fred remarked dryly, with a hint of a challenging undertone.

“I am not, but this is our future that we’re talking about,” you defended yourself.

“So you’re with us?”

“I never said that.”

“Besides, this is your last year as well. Why do you guys care so less?”

They remained silent, on their faces you could see the silent conversation – no actually a debate. It had always bothered you and as always, you could not remain quiet about this.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to do that in front of me? It’s creepy and rude. Include me in your bloody conversations as well!”

“You’re worse than mom, sometimes,” George finally sighed.

“I take that as a compliment because Molly is a wonderful person.”

“Okay so there is this thing that we’ve been planning…”Fred trailed off as if to increase the tension and curiosity. He seemed like an MC in one of these casting shows that your parents used to watch on weekends.

“What is it?” leaning back in your chair, you now had the opportunity to look at both of them. Their sudden nervousness concerned you and automatically your brows furrowed. George shifted in his chair and Fred briefly averted his eyes to steel his nerves before he directly looked at you.

“We’re planning to drop out of school so we can open our own business.”

“You’re  _WHAT_?”

“Pshh, keep your voice down, ______,” George hushed you by briefly pressing his hand on your mouth. His brown eyes were traveling around, scanning for other students that could have heard what Fred had just revealed to you.

There was a moment of silence where your gaze just flickered from Fred to George and from George back to Fred. A moment where you opened your mouth to say something, yet nothing would come out.

“I’m… I’m. Blimey, where did you get the money to start it?” you finally managed to speak, your voice quiet.

“That’s a long story.”

“I have time, Fred.”

“Didn’t you want to finish your homework?”

“Not the right moment to act so diligent, George.”

* * *

 

“So, what do you have to dooo?” Fred’s voice was vibrating next to your ear as he peeked over your shoulder to get a glimpse of the small snippet that you were holding. Immediately your fingers closed around the paper, hiding it in your fist.

“You’ll see,” your reply sounded a bit more nervous than you had intended to show.

Fred had picked some of the fun things on the list and the three of you had agreed on writing them down on little snippets so you could randomly pull them out of the glass that stood in your room. That way it was possible to keep anyone from cheating, or choosing the best and most harmless task.

Thinking back, maybe this whole thing wasn’t a good idea. You shouldn’t have agreed to this because after all  _this was actually crazy_. But how on earth could you resist these two pairs of doe eyes that were silently pleading you to join them; that were looking so hopeful at you?

They were still your best friends, after all, these two whirlwinds that brought so much fun into your boring, plain life. Yes, they had never been up to any good. But they carried their heart on the right spot and you loved them dearly.

And even more, after they had confided you; had trusted you enough to give you insight into their plans – you had spontaneously agreed.

When the question arose about the time – about when exactly they’d leave, Fred had just shrugged.

“We don’t know yet. Depends on how fast our progress is.”

It made you realize that the time that you could still spend with them was short. They could leave at any moment. And you didn’t want to let them go without making another big collection of memories; of memories that were worthy of a year – even though you were sure that they wouldn’t stay until the finals. You dreaded the day where they’d come up to you to say goodbye, you really did.

You were going to get into real trouble if a teacher or any person, who’s gotten enough authority, caught you.

“It’ll be fun,” Fred assured.

“It’ll go well,” George added.

“That’s what you always say.”

And their mischievous smiles were the same – as if one of them had just looked into a mirror.

These two were going to be your death.

* * *

 

_Drop a wand in a public place and when somebody tries to pick it up for you, scream_

_“Please! Do not kill me”_

Hogsmeade was the only village with wizard inhabitants. Ever since your third year, you were allowed to visit the small but beautiful town to do some shopping or to just spend some time with strolling through its lively streets.

Today though, your purpose wasn’t to buy some pastry from the Honey Duke’s. Or to buy a new set of quills and parchment paper.

No, today you were going to fulfill one of these things that were on the Bucket List.

With your heart thumping in your chest, so hard that you actually worried that it would jump out of your chest – your eyes traveled from side to side, observing all the people that were passing by.

Your fingers were itching and automatically you gripped your wand a little bit tighter, in fear that you could lose it in the crowd. But that was exactly what you were supposed to do.

Meanwhile, Fred and George were having a vivid conversation about the Snack Skiving box that they were developing. The sweets still had some side effects and the twins were debating about some possibilities to eliminate these unpleasant effects.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, ordering your muscles to relax. The wand fell and you suppressed the urge to run back to retrieve it. Surely someone would pick it up soon.

The gingers were so engrossed in their own world that they didn’t even notice the fact that you had dropped your wand.

One step away from your wand. Two steps. Three steps.

The distance was getting bigger with each step - proportionally to it - your uneasiness grew as well. You decided to take two more steps before walking back to get it.

Then someone tapped on your shoulders. Despite knowing that this sooner would have happened, you still flinched due to the adrenaline, the anticipation that made you all jumpy and fidgety. It was like watching a horror movie where you were well aware that something was going to happen, yet when it finally did, you would still flinch.

You turned around to face the kind stranger that unconsciously had driven himself into being your poor victim. Blimey, you were already feeling sorry. The twins stopped as well, a confused expression on their faces.

“Miss, I think you’ve drop-“

“Please-“you took a deep breath to calm your nervousness, lifting up your hands in a defensive way.

“Please, I beg you. Do not kill me!” your voice was getting louder although it was still shaking due to your nervousness. Your stomach curled painfully and your instinct told you to run away.

“Miss, I am not trying to kill you. I just saw you-“when he took a step closer, you took a step back, your eyes widening in fear.

“Isn’t this he-“George, who had begun speaking, went quiet all at once as soon as he realized what exactly this whole thing was going to be.

The man in front of you turned towards the twins who were standing next to you, a helpless look on his face. He showed them the wand but George just shrugged and Fred shook his head. They were strangely quiet – with no emotion visible and that made you even more nervous.

“PLEASE DON’T KILL ME” you interrupted him again and a desperate expression started to form on his face. The agitation was gaining attention and people were stopping to see what was going on.

“Blimey. I’m just trying to give back your wand.” The young man seemed so frightened, despondent as he was holding out the wand that you had dropped earlier.

“Is there any problem, Miss?” another wizard joined your small meeting. When studying him, it soon got clear that he was some sort of a Ministry Worker – or at least someone who had a lot of authority.

“No, not at all,” you replied innocently.

“This kind gentleman was giving my wand back, Sir. I have accidentally dropped it. Hehe, clumsy me,” you scratched the back of your neck with a small embarrassed smile, before taking the wand.

“Thank you so much, Sir.”

“But, but she just said-“ the man began, utterly confused by the change of heart.

“What did she say, Sir?” The Ministry worker enquired with a raised eyebrow.

“She just-“Once again the forlorn and desperate expression appeared on the kind man’s face. He sought help at the twins, who shrugged again.

“I don’t know what he’s talking about,” the younger twin replied with an innocent face.

“But…”

“Anyways, thank you so much for your kindness, Sir. I am sorry for the inconvenience,” you tilted your head and gave a short nod as if to say goodbye. Then you turned around and resumed walking, relaxing your tense shoulders the more distance you put between the man and you.

Somewhere behind you, you could hear the twins laughing and snickering.

* * *

 

“Is he done with changing?” you joined Fred who was leaning against a tree trunk, an amused expression on his face.

“Yeah.”

“Where is he then?”

“Don’t you want to come out George?”

“No,” he sounded grumpy from inside the forest, well hidden in the shadows of magical trees and soothing darkness. Your eyes automatically searched for a red head.

“Oh come on,  _Georgie_. Let me see too!” you coaxed him softly after not being able to make his figure out in the forest. Which was unusual, as the twins always carried such a big presence, impossible to overlook.

“No way in hell.”

“Pretty please?”

“No. I look ridiculous,” you could hear the pout in his voice and automatically you smiled. George was clearly the one who had the puppy face; who actually looked  _a bit_  cute whenever he pouted.

He was used to being a Joker, to act immature and stupid and silly. But this was just humiliating. He looked like a goddamn plushie.

“Is the size too small?” Fred asked; a gloating smirk on his face. The older twin pushed himself away from the tree trunk.

“No. It fits,” it came back, more like it grumbled back.

“Come on, Georgie,” you were almost begging as you kept staring at the spot where you believed him to be. Fred started to walk, approaching the same corner where you had last heard George’s voice coming from.

“Don’t be a drama queen,” the ginger warned his little brother as he came back into the light, dragging a very pouty George along by his arm.

“You’re worse, Fred. Last time mom had to come to examine your pathetic paper cut. You kept screaming that you were going to die.”

“Please, just been imitating Malfoy.”

“’Course”

George crossed his arms, clearly not amused at all when your gaze met him – only so you could burst out into laughter. He was wearing a white unicorn costume with a mane and tail in rainbow colours. There was glitter sprinkled on these parts and the horn was a metal, wildly shimmering shade of gold.

You stumbled up to him, giggles leaving your lips and laughter shaking your stomach until it became nothing but a painful drum. George blushed.

“You’re so soft George. Soft and cute!” you managed to say in between, after letting your hand run over the silky fur of the cloth that George was forced to wear for the next task. He rolled his eyes; visibly annoyed. Fred snickered knowingly. Of course, e knew why his baby brother was in such a foul mood. And it was not because he looked stupid.

It was because he looked stupid  _in front of you_.

Taking the camera in your hand that you had been wearing around your neck, you put some distance between the three of you; making sure that you could get the perfect angle. You needed to capture this gorgeous, hilarious moment for eternity. Fred’s amused expression was the perfect opposite to George’s sullen face.

But there was more to come; after all this wasn’t the dare that the younger Weasley had to do.

_Wear an Unicorn-Onesie and ask the Centaurs whether you could join their herd._

They were going to kill him, for they had always been a  _very_ peaceful species.

They didn’t. Yet.

Instead they chased the three of you out of the forest for your (George’s) audacity, chasing you until you took your heels and ran, ran for your life. With laughs and giggles stuck in your throat; skipping heart beats and adrenaline ringing in your ear. Fred had packed your left arm and George had gripped your right arm while stumbling over stones and roots and loose wood, behind you the distinct noise of hoofs hitting the ground. Ohh, they were closing the distance and a wave of panic washed over your body as you turned to look back.

Yet it was the funniest thing that you had ever experienced as the three of you finally entered the rounds of Hogwarts again.

“My stomach hurts,” Fred was still suffering the aftermath of laughing too much.

“Water” George just gasped.

“We lost the camera,” you just remarked breathlessly, the view in front of you was blurring and you were once again reminded that you needed to exercises more.

“Shoot.” Fred’s eyes wandered back towards the forest.

“Now nobody’s going to believe us when we say George was a unicorn once.”

“That’s the only good thing, probably.”

* * *

 

_Convince Dobby that underwear is some sort of hats._

Christmas was right in front of the door. It was visible in the hallways, where the iron armour of the knights was reflecting the flickering light of the fire. The heavy parts had been polished until no dust was able to pale its surface; until you could check your reflection in it.

Some Prefects had placed some cheeky Santa Claus hats on top of the knight’s heads and there were mistletoes everywhere. Literally everywhere possible. They had hidden enchanted mistletoes that only allowed the students to leave the spot when you.

“This is so mean!”You protested when unwrapping the snippet that would bestow you with the next dare.

“A dare is a dare,” Fred had insisted despite your worries.

“Merry Christmas, Dobby,” you anxiously smiled as the small house elf unwrapped his present. George and you had snuck into the kitchen after midnight, planning to give Dobby his present before anyone else could.

“Dobby is grateful for your kind present _______,” he pronounced your name a like a drunk man as he unwrapped his gift that would turn out to be underpants with the a printed “I am sexy”.

You mentally buried your face in your hands. Dobby had always been such a kind soul, you really didn’t want to do this.

“Dobby loves clothes! What kind of cloth is this?” the joy was unmistakably visible in the elf’s green eyes and George who had been laughing ever since he got a glimpse of the cloth, momentarily stopped to look at you. Dobby, however, didn’t seem to notice the Weasley’s amusement.

“It’s uh…”

“It’s a hat. A hat. You were in on your head like this.”

You turned the underpants over, showing him how to wear it.

“See the gaps on both sides, these are specially made for your ears to fit in,” you talked on, not knowing what you were saying. George roared with laughter.

“Dobby likes it!”

“I am glad you do! I wanted to thank you for all the good food that you had made for me whenever I was hungry.” You patted his head, as he put the cloth on, wearing it with so much pride – your guilty feelings were simply overwhelming you.

“It really suits you,” George wiped the tears away and you gave him a look of despair that he only acknowledged with a wink.

* * *

 

“This was so humiliating,” you muttered and George chuckled. You could see that he was recalling the incident from the last Hogsmeade visit a few months ago; his own dare already long forgotten.

“How do you guys manage to keep your cool? I thought that I was gonna die.”

“Practice and patience, my young student,” Fred replied. His eyes were glittering amused as his eyes were scanning the crowd, were choosing his victim.

They were definitely mocking you.

“Now watch and learn how the master does it,” Fred who had seemed to find his perfect prey stood up and casually walked over to the man whose skin was shining in the light. His head was polished, was definitely well taken care of.

The Weasley strode over to where the bald man sat; and positioned himself behind him. His gaze met yours and you could see how his lips curled into a smile. You giggled.

Fred swiftly turned away as the man lifted his head to look at who was standing so close by. The ginger pretended to search for something; pocket money you assumed.

“Is he going to be alright?”

“Who knows” George slightly leaned against your shoulder as the two of you carefully watched each movement of Fred. The bulky man turned back to his Firewhiskey, gripping the glass with the brown liquid before he set the glass to his mouth to take a sip.

Fred raised his hand and moved his fingers like a piano player; like the ridiculous Muggle wizards that used to impress you so much as a little child.

_Rub a bald man’s head and ask it to tell you the future_

Then he gently placed his hand on top of the man’s head, softly rubbing the smooth skin as his loud and clear voice rang through the comfy room of the Three Broomsticks. The man turned slightly to look at Fred.

“ _Abracadabra, oh holy, oh sacred skin ball._  
Be so kind and illuminate us all.  
Tell us the future, the inevitable truth;  
Scare the damned  
And soothe the worthy  
with your proof.”

“Shit, he’s good,” you cursed under your breath, watching Fred’s improvisation with wide eyes.

Lively conversations, laughter, and working noises haltered; were simply muted. The room suddenly seemed eerily silent. All eyes were on the idiot friend of yours. A meaningful moment for a not so meaningful show. Too much attention, too much expectations for such a puny, pathetic show.

“I can do better,” George whispered, sounding breathless. Only then did you realize that you were holding your breath as well. People, students, teachers; they were all waiting for Fred’s next move, anticipating fun and doom.

The chair close to you fell over with a loud thunk as the bulky man stood up, revealing his real size. Compared to him, Fred seemed like a tiny, Irish goblin. In an instant, your attention was back on the older Weasley. Oh no.

Fred’s mischievous smile froze to the spot. The man’s face distorted into something very ugly. Yet everything was silent, filled with tension You actually couldn’t imagine what would happen next.

Would he laugh? Would he scream?

He did none of them; just raised his meaty and muscular arm that was flexing under his movement.

“Oh oh,” you made, voicing Fred’s expression perfectly. His face changed from cheeky into scared in such a short time, you were sure that he’d get some award for that. Was his mouth standing agape?

Things happened pretty fast then.

Fred ducked as the man reached out for the first smack and then your friend was gone, stumbling through rows of tables and stools as the slightly drunken man began to chase him, staggering as he did so. But soon the man picked up some speed, his red face reddening even more due to anger.

“YOU FILTHY BRAT”

“Mr Weasley!” You heard McGonagall before you could see her slender figure in her usual black attire. She was hurrying after them, was trying to catch up to Fred who was storming towards the exit, pushing his way past the speechless audience.

“WATIL TILL I GET YOU”

“Come back, Mr Weasley! Detention awaits you!”

Beside you, George was bursting into laughter.

“George, this is not funny. We need to help him!” you pulled the remaining twin up, dragging him along as you also started to follow Fred. Behind you, George was giggling uncontrollably. His laugh had such a contagious effect; you couldn’t help but snort as well. And these snorts built up, increased until they unleashed as full-fledged laughs.

You were wrong.

The man did scream.

* * *

 

_Wrap toilet paper around Thestrals so you can see them._

“Come on; don’t be such a coward,” Fred mocked his brother.

“I am not scared Fred. I just  _can’t see_  them and they like  _blood_. How about we just randomly run around and try to find one of these bloodthirsty things that we  _bloody_ can’t see?”

“That’s why I got some fresh meat for you guys to feed them. Got the toilet paper ready?” you handed both of them a small bucket with the just mentioned content.

“Yup,” George answered and gestured to a big bag that was leaning against a bush.

The three of you were somewhere in the Forbidden Forest, visiting the place where these celestial animals would usually gather when Hagrid came to feed them. You had caught the half-giant in the hallways, asking him for important things that George had to keep in mind.

Because, despite reading about them in a book, you could never be too sure. And in this whole school there was nobody else who knew these creatures the better than Hagrid did.

It was the beginning March and the snow had just disappeared from the surfaces and grounds, making place for the soft plants that were finally daring to peek out of their secure, nourishing homes in search for the warming sun.

You stood in the middle of a wide, plain ground, where the trees looked like they were avoiding this place, only growing around the area that seemed so oddly bare, uninhabited. Fred and George were already aimlessly roaming around, with cold, slippery looking meat in their outstretched hands and that was already a funny sight.

“There are none in sight,” Fred sighed with feigned disappointment.

“You’re so silly, Freddie,” you laughed, getting his small pun.

“Stop poking me with your elbow, George.”

“Fred, I am standing at least one metre away from you.”

“But if it’s not you, what on earth is poking me?” Fred turned around,  horror was splattered on his face.

“There’s nothing behind you, Freddie.”

“AH! It poked me again!” The older Weasley jumped, clearly startled by the thing that could not be seen. George came closer, bearing a curious look on his face. But he was unable to keep the amusement away.

“It’s a Thestral! Good job, Weaselman,” you exclaimed in awe after your fingers were able to touch warm, smooth but leathery skin.

“It keeps nudging me!” Fred’s concerned voice made you chuckle. Didn’t he just mock his brother?

“Of course, you got the meat.”

“Ah yeah. I kinda forgot the slippery thing in my hand,” he mumbled before he opened his palm to feed the Thestral.

“I got another one!” George breathlessly uttered, watching the blank space devour the piece of meat in his hands. Judging by his tone, you noticed that he was blown away by these peculiar creatures that everyone believed to be the Messengers of Death.

“Give it to me. I’ll feed it and you use the toilet paper.”

“But…,” the younger twin argued, actually wanting to feed these lovely Thestrals instead of wrapping toilet paper around the bodies.

“It’s your task”

“Yes, Georgie. Do what a man has to do,” Fred chimed, happily feeding the invisible animal

* * *

 

_Jinx all the clocks so they’ll have to scream at every hour_

Dolores Umbridge was definitely one of the twin’s favorite teachers. With her flawless Inquisitorial Squad and her reasonable decrees, she soon catapulted herself into the top positions of the most popular teacher. If you started from the bottom, that was.

With the Defense of the Dark Arts lesson becoming into a huge waste of time, Harry’s cunning best friend, Hermione, had founded a small self-study group that would teach you more practical things than how to repair your damaged quill in case it broke in midst of copying the school book.

Dumbledore’s Army meant breaking the rules and operating in secret. It meant learning to fight when your hands were tied together. But there was more into that idea.

It conveyed the thought of rebellion and revolution; sparked the match that everyone was too scared to light.

Fred and George particularly appeared to like this concept and while they were still preparing their departure from Hogwarts – the twins didn’t want to reveal the details about that yet- they occasionally decided to try out a few of their products. You were worried due to the fact that these seemed to have such a dangerous effect. But the first impression didn’t always mean that it was going to be that way.

Sometimes, they’d drop some dung bombs, other days there would be invisible shields at the entrance that would result in you bouncing back a few metres when accidentally running into them.

Fred didn’t tell you about what he was up to – he rarely did. But your guts were telling you that he was planning something that would once again prove that he was probably one of the biggest idiots on earth. Especially when he asked for details of your next dare.

“ _Curse a door that only opens when you tell a knock-knock joke,”_ you recited the words that were written down on the paper fragment.

“Mind doing that this Wednesday?”

“Well no, but isn’t it your turn right now?”

“Yes but I’d like to see yours first.”

“Alright.”

“…wait. Fred Weasley, you’re up to something, am I right?” you inched closer, examining his face for every single hint. The ginger didn’t even flinch. Instead, his cheeky, secretive grin just broadened.

“Nothing,” he replied, his eyes flickering to unknown places. That was the sign. There was the sparkle that indicated something improper, the anticipation of something that would be the school’s doom.

“You’re definitely up to something,” you poked his chest, before your faces were so close that you could feel his warm breath on your cheek, examining him more.

“Like my face so much that you have to get a closer look?”

“Shut up.”

 

You tried to provoke your favorite twin – you’d rather die than admit that though - into exposing some information. George usually was easier to crack, as he seemed to have a soft spot for you. There was something about the way he smiled and talked to you; the way he would spare you from any pranks in a very, very subtle way that proved to you how much closer you were with George than Fred.

You fondly thought about the nights were the two of you snuck into the kitchen without Fred, letting yourselves getting pampered for a delicious midnight snack, lovingly cooked by the kind house elves. It always had been so much fun; had been one of your favourite times.

However all your attempts were in vain. George’s pretty lips remained sealed just like the Chamber of Secrets had been for years. He commented your pout with a pat on your head and a soft chuckle, so throaty – it sent shivers over your spine.

Wednesday was the day that marked the middle of a week. The day you had to curse the doors.

It was the possibility of getting caught that kept you wide awake and on alert as you snuck from classroom to classroom, your wand in your hand. You were gradually starting to understand why the twins liked to play pranks; with the thrill and the excitement exhilarating you, it was like a drug; a never ending addiction.

You threw another glance at the clock whose hand was moving towards the twelve in slow motion. The lesson was boring and you were counting down the minutes to the end of the lesson with Professor Umbridge, the most hateful and sadistic teacher on earth. She was in the middle of her monologue that she held in her annoyingly squeaky voice, her disgustingly pink clothes shimmering in the sunlight as she went on talking about the stuff that didn’t really reach your ears. Usually, your best friend would be sitting with you, sharing the pain. But unfortunately, today she refrained from attending the lessons due to a nasty cold much to your dismay.

“How am I supposed to survive this hell of a lesson without you?” you had whined in the morning but her reply just consisted of some coughing and sniffles. Her pale, grayish face distorting as she blew up her nose.

“Sorry,” she sounded hoarse.

“It’s fine. I was joking. Rest up and I will call Madame Pomfrey.

A ball of crumbled parchment paper hit your head, earning your attention. You flinched; a moment of shock and confusion washing over you before you realized that it was only a piece of paper that had just viciously attacked you.

Scanning the room for the culprit, you found the responsible person sitting just a few seats away. Flaming red hair and eyes in the colour of the richest coffee, glittering with glee.

“Have you done the spell?” George mouthed.

“What?” you leaned forward, raising your eyebrows as you tried your best to understand what he had just said.

“Have you done the spell?” he repeated, saying it out loud instead. Around you, no student attempted to silent you, as they proceeded to copy down some passages from the book. You imitated them, so to not arouse any suspicions

“Yes,” you whispered and nodded in case he couldn’t catch what you had just said.

“Three minutes,” Fred turned around and held two fingers up, a mischievous grin playing along his lips.

“What’s in three minutes?” But there you were, talking to their backs again.

“Hey!” After unsuccessfully trying to gain their attention – even with help of the crumbled paper that they had used on you earlier, you gave up.

When the clock stroked eleven, hell broke loose. Multiple things happened at once. An ear-ripping scream echoed through the classroom, harshly waking the sleeping students. They almost fell off their chair. Agitation and curiosity was clearly shown on your classmates’ faces as they craned their neck to track down the source of noise that turned out to be the clock.

But from the distant; from other rooms you could hear the same scream as well. Eleven shrill screams, eleven beats for eleven o’ clock. Doubled, tripled. Professor Umbridge’s shrill voice was doing its hardest to drown the screaming, her wand was flickering as she tried her hardest to undo the spell.

_Free Pixies in a classroom and yell “You’re free now”_

George pulled out a cage from somewhere. He removed the black blanket and opened the cage, releasing a bunch of Pixies that zoomed through the room in a blink of an eye. Actually, you didn’t even want to know how he managed to smuggle this past Filch and past Umbridge. But however he managed to do that, it was bloody brilliant.

Chaos broke out. Flying books and parchments, quills shooting through the air like arrows as the pixies zoomed past them, causing a big commotion. A surprised gasp left your lips, but it soon turned into small laughs.

“YOU’RE FREE NOW,” Fred and George dramatically announced in unison, their hands around their mouths increasing the volume.

“STOP THIS AT ONCE” Professor Umbridge screamed, her face taking the shade of a ripe tomato. She was frantically trying to catch the little monsters but it was all for nothing. One of the pixies, a rather brave one, snatched her wand away and Professor Umbridge unsuccessfully called for Filch before just taking a wand from one of your fellow house mates.

“Hey! I thought wands weren’t allowed in this lesson?” Someone provoked and soon the room filled with agreeing laughter. You ducked when a book flew in your direction.

“WEASLEY INTO MY OFFICE”

“Which one?” Lee Jordan asked; a smug grin on his face.

The toad that you had to refer to as your teacher, huffed.

“BOTH”

_“_ Yes m’am,” they curtsied before they calmly walked towards her, following her in a way that you would’ve called “too obediently”.

Meanwhile, some students were trying to catch the small creatures, their wands barely missing them as they flashed across the classroom.

Umbridge grabbed the door handle, pressing the iron handle down. But the door didn’t budge, instead, it started to speak.

_I am a door that stands tall as a rock_  
Give me a joke  
About a bloke  
And a knock

Your eyes locked with George’s and his gaze said it all.  _Really?_ You shrugged in response and raised your hands, as if to justify yourself. He then grinned and you rolled your eyes before Umbridge turned around, catching your non-verbal conversation with George. Her lips curled into a malicious smile, as realization dawned; as she found another – rightful – scapegoat.

Shit, you were in trouble.

* * *

 

_Kiss the person you love_

He gulped, blinking several times as he read this simple sentence over and over again. Yet the letters stayed where they are; remained the same. But quite frankly, George couldn’t seem to remember seeing this dare listed down in the original Bucket List that his brother, you and he had found at the beginning of the year. Ah, he was doomed.

The ginger had been in love with you ever since the summer before his seventh year, when the twins had invited you over to spend the last two weeks of holidays with them. It was quite fun, like pajama parties that lasted two weeks. He had known you for years, yet somehow that summer it was the first time that he came to the realization; had noticed that you had grown into a beautiful young woman.

With that, automatically a chain of reactions had been settled. Faint blushes and shaking fingertips when they occasionally brushed over yours; something that used to be so normal between the two of you. And when you hugged, blimey, he couldn’t help but lean a little more into your touch; inhale your soothing scent that reminded him of how the sky smelled before the grey clouds would rain down in a heavy pour.

Their leave was approaching, the fireworks were almost done, waiting well hidden in a place that nobody was going to be able to find. It was going to be the cherry on top; the crème de la crème. A grand show. The greatest. The best that would ever happen at Hogwarts.

George just knew that they were going to go down as legends, as the idiot twins that defied Umbridge in their last year.

But the hardest thing was still going to come. The twins would have to say goodbye to you. There were about three months of school left, and the younger Weasley was well aware of how dejected you would be without them. Despite trying to be the reasonable one, the well-behaved part of this peculiar trio, the twins had always managed to involve you in their plans. Even when you had given them a nagging tirade and days of rolling eyes and masterly ignoring.

“Hey, ______?” George whispered, tilting his head towards your position. You were lying on an armchair, your legs swung over the armrest as you intently read a book at the fireplace. The younger twin had talked his brother into joining at a certain time, so he could utilize the time to properly say goodbye; to tell you that they were planning to leave tomorrow while Harry was trying to break into Umbridge’s office. And to do the dare.

“Mhm?” you hummed, absentmindedly. He could see the fire throwing shadows on your profile as your pupils flickered across the page, devouring the information in a very inquisitive way.

“Got a moment? I need to tell you something.” he crawled closer to the armchair, as he had been sitting on the carpet right in front of the fireplace.

“Sure,” looking up from your book, your eyes met with his brown eyes. Today, due to the flickering fire, they bore the colour of caramel.

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” George’s voice was all quiet, his expression soft and affectionate. As if he knew exactly how much their departure was going to affect you.

“Oh.”

The disappointment was visible on your face and you gave a sigh, closing the book with a soft thud. There was no way that you could focus on this now. You slid down to the ground, getting on the same height as George while ignoring the fact that your heart had just sunk.

“I…uhm…I don’t know what to say,” you started kneading your hands, not really knowing what to say and where to look. Because his empathy was too much; was unbearable. You didn’t need any comfort. Fred and George were your best friends. But your life didn’t depend on them; you were perfectly fine on your own. Yet, you were still going to miss them so terribly.

“I mean, I knew that the time would come. After all, of course, you wouldn’t stay till the end of the year…but…I mean…so soon?”

“Yeah,” George just replied. He inched closer, took your hands into his large ones so to stop you from fidgeting. This gesture earned your attention and you looked up, once again meeting his gaze.

“______, you’re my best friend.  _Our_  best friend. There’s no way we’re going to break off contact. We’ll write to you. Every week. Every day. Every hour if that’s what you want,” he winked, trying to detonate the serious atmosphere.

“I expect nothing less, Weasley,” despite of your heavy heart, you couldn’t help but smile a little.

“Yes m’am,” he pulled his hand back so he could salute, a cheeky grin appearing on his face.

“But there’s more,” George continued after a small pause wherein he tried to gather every bit of courage that was left in his body. You raised your eyebrow in reply, silently urging him to go on.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you for a long time. But well, you’re dense and I wasn’t sure whether you felt the same,” he began, attempting to be meaningful. An expression of surprise flashed on your face as he mentioned the word “dense”.

“And well, the thing is,” the red head haltered again, swallowing and recollecting the words that were just flying around in his mind like the pixies in the classroom, weeks ago.

“I love you.”

You released his hand.

Your breath hitched and you were sure that you had just choked on your own saliva. A minute passed where you just stared at him, not even blinking, eyes wide in surprise.

Two more minutes passed.

George’s already rapid heartbeat doubled once more. The ginger was sure that his high blood pressure was increasing in a very very unhealthy way. You weren’t feeling the same.

“Fuck, George. Please tell me that I am not dreaming,” you cursed, finally finding your voice.

“Well, if you’re not feeling the same, then you are dreaming,” his mouth was dry and so was his throat.

“Good. Then I am not.”

Leaning forward, you grabbed his face, so you could press your lips on his for a firm kiss. He groaned, softly gripping the sides of your neck, pulling you closer to his warm body, until you basically sat on his lap. George had never once dared to dream about the way your lips would feel against his in such a mind-blowing, knee-weakening way.

You were panting, when he finally released your lips from his sweet trap. But George didn’t back away. Instead he leaned his forehead against yours, not intending to miss a single of your reactions.

“Now I think I am dreaming.”

“Need some more evidence that you’re not?” you breathlessly muttered against the corner of his lips.

“Definitely,” and he pressed his mouth on yours again, not feeling entirely satisfied yet.

* * *

 

“George, are you here?”

“Yes,” he replied, appearing to be very absentminded. You made your way through the flat, tossing the keys on the small stand in the hallway as you walked towards the room that once was home to Fred Weasley.

George was sitting on the ground, in midst of cardboard boxes and books; clothes and shoes.

“Didn’t I tell you to sort this out when you’re ready?” you tried your best to kneel down next to him, but it was actually more difficult than you had believed. The room was packed; with almost no free space to actually sit down to.

In the end, you clumsily slid on the floor after pushing some of the boxes aside.

“I am, really,” your boyfriend assured, letting you inch closer to what he was looking at. The photo managed to conjure a small smile on your face. There stood a grumpy George in a fluffy white unicorn costume. Fred had slung his arm around his brother.

“Oh, I didn’t know we had this. Didn’t we lose the camera in the forest?”

“Fred found it on top of a bush, quite close to the edge of the woods.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? It was mine after all,” you gently nudged his shoulders with yours and George looked up to meet your eyes.

“We wanted to keep it so you wouldn’t be able to show it around.”

“Fred still showed it around, right?”

“Yeah,” he slightly laughed, the hazel in his eyes slightly clouding. Fred’s death was still taking a toll on him.

“Come closer,” he just murmured before he pulled you into his lap, enveloping your body with his arms; the photo still in one of his hands. Although he had just said that he was fine, he still wanted to feel your warmth close by. You nestled closer to his chest, feeling his broad chest against your back.

“We used to be so stupid, back then in our last year. I still can’t believe I let you guys convince me to participate in your stupid game.”

George witnessed how a fond smile decorated your face, as your mind traveled far away, to a time before the war. He directed his gaze back to the photo, looking at the moving versions of himself and his brother. They had looked much younger, much more innocent and not as disillusioned as he was now.

“It wasn’t in our last year,_______. Didn’t we find that Bucket List in our sixth year?”

“No way, it was definitely our  _last_  year. And I was panicking because I was scared to be expelled.”

“You sure?” he raised his eye brows, still not entirely convinced.

“Turn it around. Perhaps Fred noted the date on the back of the photo. Shall we make a bet? The winner is freed from chores for the next three days.”

“No chores at all?” He seemed interested, his doe eyes twinkling playfully.

“Yup. So, you gonna do it or not?”

“’Course. It means no laundry washing.  _For three whole days_ ,” he let you muffle his chuckles with a kiss.

“Not so confident, Weasley.”

“I am not. It’s not confidence if it’s the truth.”

“Just turn it around already.”

You grabbed his wrist, nudging him to turn the photo around, wanting to prove to your boyfriend of five years that your memory was indeed better than his. There was a reason why you always won in all the Memory Card games after all

Instead, George and you found yourselves looking at a small list in the messiest, ugliest writing ever.

“That’s Fred’s,” you said in unison, before sharing a look that conjured a smile on your faces.

“Let’s read it together,” you shifted in his lap and he held the photograph up so he could get a better angle to read as well.

_“Stop worrying about George ending up as an old virgin,”_ he read out.

“I am not a virgin,” George instantly protested.

“It’s a Bucket List” you breathlessly recognized.

_“Play cupid to get George and _____ together”_

“I think he already did that. Why didn’t he cross that out?” You could feel George shrugging against your back.

_“Buy mom another expensive present. Buy a rubber duck for dad,”_  you read on.

“That’s a lovely idea. We should do that.”

“Yeah,” George hummed before you picked up your earlier action.

_“Dance with Ginny on her Graduation ceremony. Attend the graduation ceremony of Ron, Harry and Hermione.”_

“I didn’t know that he would have listed that,” you whispered, suddenly becoming all quiet. A few moments passed as both of you pursued your own thoughts and memories.

Ginny, Harry, Ron and Hermione graduated altogether a year after Fred’s death. Hogwarts had been rebuilt on a destroyed ground; had been resurrected so it could serve as home for future generations. But this time, there were Memorial boards and monuments and books about the latest happenings. This time, the students didn’t just learn about Giant wars and Witch Hunts, but about the Battle of Hogwarts as well.

“ _Find a someone who looks at me like ______ looks at George. Marry. Have children.”_ George’s voice had become raspy and hoarse with every sentence that he read out loud.

The atmosphere had changed into something heavy. A silent shadow hanging over your shoulders as the sadness of having to lose someone, once again clouded your eyes. Because naturally, all these wishes; these dreams were lost – couldn’t be fulfilled.

There was a long pause before he would read on; a long moment where you knew that he was trying to collect his composure; attempting to hold back the tears that were going to come. Unstoppable and uncontrolled.

_“Be George’s best man.”_

Your view blurred and you blinked, trying to regain a clear view. One of you had to be strong now.

You wiped the tears away, softly holding his face before craning your neck and shifting slightly so you could shower him with butterfly kisses. On his cheeks pale cheeks that bore cute little freckles, the chin, the corner of his full lips, his eyelids and his nose. He let out a ragged laugh, slightly sniffling before he let you wrap your arms around him – which wasn’t as easy as you would think.

“He’ll be. He’ll be,” you whispered quietly against his neck as you sunk back into your earlier position. Despite sitting on his lap, you were still slightly smaller than him.

“We can buy one of these life-size cardboard people and print his face on.”

The ginger had to snort against his will.

“That sounds fun.”

“It’s on our Bucket list then.”

“Yeah.”

He leaned down to capture the arch of your lips, feeling so grateful that he could be here with you. Sharing this precious moment that Fred had left you; had carefully written and viciously hidden so George could find it one day. And the younger twin was sure that this was all to tell him to move on, move on and hold the memories dear instead of spending more time to mourn.

“He’s dead but he still has to meddle with our lives huh,” your fingers were curling around the hair strands that met at the nape of his neck, feeling their softness.

“But if it wasn’t for him, we wouldn’t be together,” his Adam’s apple was moving as he spoke, in his eyes there were a thousand of unspoken words, glittering like diamonds.

“George?”

“Mhm?” he hummed.

“Get down here,” you instructed, waiting for him to lean his forehead against yours. You pecked his lips.

“I love you.”

“You’ll have to because I have the unicorn photo,” you grinned holding up the photograph that you had snatched away while he was busy with staring into your eyes. George’s expression became blank for a second before his mouth split into an amused grin, smoothing out all the wrinkles that had appeared on his face.

“Devious little brat.”


End file.
